


A Light in the Dark

by MetasActReon



Series: Hi-Jinx AU [4]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Canon Death, Caretaking, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, It's Sammy being Sammy, M/M, Norman is a scared territorial puppy, Religious Fanaticism, Smut, The projectionist can show emotion pretty well, bendy worship, can't change my mind, clean or with a side of smut, ends with angst, only a little, smut option, tales of the studio, you choose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 20:44:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16940409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetasActReon/pseuds/MetasActReon
Summary: Sammy Lawrence has been a loyal follower of the Ink Demon for several years, and he would never lose faith in his lord, but what's wrong with trying to find some joy in these dark times?ORFollow Sammy the Prophet in this story of broken scenes in his love life with Norman the Projectionist.Note: The only smut in this work is placed on CH2. Everything else is on CH1. As long as you stick to CH1, the work is clean.





	1. A Light in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> My first posted BATIM fic!  
> So, I'm a prophet/projectionist shipper that was a bit disappointing at how little was on AO3, and more disappointed with how little smut there is. However, I can't just spit out smut, I need to work out the relationship first, so here is a bunch of scenes written to show how I picture these two getting together and falling hard for each other. If you don't want smut, just read chapter 1. Chapter 2 is where you find the smut.  
> I hope you enjoy.

   Sammy didn't venture from his department often. Why, he had everything he needed right there to worship his lord and play his songs, plus the infirmary provided a perfect place to sleep. However, after a few years, a man gets bored and tired, and he had come to a realization. He had sinned for his lord, he had tainted himself to prove how devoted, how _worthy_ he was. Would more sin really change his rewards later? He surely doubted that! If a little sin for oneself was what broke this camel's back, he figured he mustn't have been destined to be truly free anyway. That is, he figured it in a frustrated way and really hoped that that wasn’t the case.

   With that, Sammy finally accepted that he had some needs he had been refusing to fill for a long time, and from the whispers he could hear from the puddles, the one he had longed for was still up and kicking. So he made his way into the Angel's territory and took an inky portal of his own making down to Level 14.

   He straightened his mask and took the stairs down, wondering how the one he was looking for would appear. Susie looked like a demented version of Alice Angel, Bertie had somehow become fused with one of the rides, Johnny had gotten himself stuck to the organ and seemed unwilling to leave from behind it, Jack was just a swollen hatted searcher, Sammy had to deal with one of the random outsiders that had slipped into the studio that was now crawling around as a giant searcher in a hard hat on a couple occasions, and Shawn was somewhere around here as well, though Sammy wasn’t entirely sure as what. So, at this point, he wouldn’t be surprised what Nor-

**_“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!”_ **

   Sammy watched for a moment as the projector headed ink creature ran straight at him. He gave a small nod, taking in just how different Norman was now, before stepping backwards into the wall, through a portal, back to level P.

   . . .

   Norman was not nearly as mentally stable as Sammy had hoped for. Though he had refused to accept his attraction for his coworker as valid for years before he became The Prophet, he had managed to maintain a certain friendship he thought was cherished by both parties, so when Norman kept screaming and charging at him, he was more than just a little miffed. The creature wouldn’t listen to him, and Sammy really didn’t like the idea of fighting the one he was trying to befriend once more.

   He, also, found Norman's new form was a bit concerning as well. While Sammy managed to keep a rather nice mostly human body, Norman had become a bit more monstrous. He was bulkier than he use to be and covered in tubes? wires? film? his head was that of a projector, which was ironic, but it wasn't something he couldn't get use to... right?

   So he returned, again and again. Every once in a while, the creature would land an attack in and he'd have to wait a bit to recover. One time the monster that was Norman had actually succeeded in sending him back to the dark puddles, and in such a way Sammy lost almost all of his stability. He had to force his way back out of the inky hell, fighting down the wills of all the others who were trapped within the foul liquid by enforcing his own, sucking in the stability of nearby searchers and what little there was in the puddles themselves. He even completely drained a Fisher that had wandered too close before he was able to crawl out fully formed.

   He became much more cautious, staying out in the open, waiting for Norman to arrive instead of searching him out. After a few more times, the creature seemed to have finally grown use to his presence, just letting out a staticy yell that sounded less likely a battle cry and more like a cry to tell him to just leave already.

   Sammy cautiously made his way closer to the projector beast before speaking. “Norman? Remember me? It's Sammy.”

   The projector watched him for a second longer before huffing and heading back into his tunnels.

   . . .

   Patience is a virtue in this studio.

   It wasn't too long before the projectionist would great him with an indifferent wave and a crackle of acknowledgement. And after that, it wasn't long until the Projectionist approached him without intent to kill. He placed his hand upon Sammy's shoulder as Sammy was eating the lunch he had brought down. Sammy jerked and looked up, startled, can of soup half drank, and hastily put the can down beside himself, swallowing the contents that remained in his mouth.

   Some static came from the speaker, and Sammy recognize the tilt of the Projectionist’s head as an inquisitive one.

   Sammy knit his eyebrows, trying to figure out what it was Norman was trying to ask. He figured the creature must be wondering why he was down here in the first place. “Well... I've been lonely... I missed you,” Sammy quietly tried, hoping to maybe inspire some memory or sense of knowing within the simple animalistic mind that Norman now had.

   The projector stared at him, the light bathing his mask and shoulders. If it weren’t for the properties of his mask, Sammy knew he would be blinded by that light, but the mask’s sight wasn’t weak like eyes and could see perfectly even through the bright light.

   Finally, Norman seemed to shrug and continue along his way, sloshing through the ink.

**. . .**

   The projectionist watched the stubborn nonthreatening man that had infiltrated his territory. He watched him fiddle with his object, and he focused, trying to figure out the point of that object. It seemed to be made of wood and string, the end near the man’s stomach that a hand was gently strumming across was rounded and there was a protrusion that shot up to the man’s other hand. The man swayed a little, and through the whirring noise of a nonexistent reel being fed through his head, Norman could just barely hear the man's voice.

_Is the object something to do with sound?_

   The projectionist sloshed forward, trying to slow the projector's feed, and therefore quiet down the white noise a bit. He sat down next to the inky being, listening.

   “You like that?” the man asked, just loudly enough for Norman to hear, even though his head was quieted quite a bit.

   Norman shined his light on the person's mask frustratingly. He had realized a while ago that the man wasn't disoriented by the light, so he knew that he couldn't use it for defense against this being, nor would using it hurt this person. He’d rather not hurt this person at this point.

   The man began making noises again, the object being strummed bringing a much different sound than his humming. The projectionist closed his inky shutter, simplifying his sight to the reflection his light made upon his own ink, and focused, slowing his projector down even more until he was in a trance like state. The sounds were upbeat... good... fun.

   “♪If you find yourself in hell,

   Find a buddy while you're there

   The way to get through hell

   Is to have a friend who’ll care.♪”

**. . .**

   Sammy wandered the small maze, taking note of the corpses. It was odd that the corpses hadn’t dissolved into ink. Sammy kneeled down into the ink and stroked the inky heart that was in a striker’s hand.

**_“SCREEEE!”_ **

   Sammy flinched and stood back up. Norman’s light came around the corner as he sloshed through the ink with surprising speed. He stared at Sammy, and for a moment Sammy wondered if he was being squared up before an attack.

 _“D̡͟͜o͏̡̨͢͝n̴̨͏͞’̨̧t̸̴͞ ҉t̵̵̵ơ̢͝҉ų̷̛͟c͜͟҉̡h̴̕,”_ crackled through the speaker on the projectionist’s chest.

   Sammy relaxed, before taking a double take. _Norman is capable of actual communication?_ “Um, what’s so important about them?”

   Norman kneeled down to inspect the heart without comment.

   Sammy frowned at Norman’s blatant ignoring of his question, and asked, a bit louder, “What’s so important about them?”

 _“S̡̛͢͡ţ̵̢͢͞a҉͞b͡͝i̷͢͝l̴i̧͘t̨͘͞y̸̛͢,”_ Norman’s static murmured. _“H̵͘͞e̷͏̢̡a̛͏͏̡r̷͡t̕s͘͞ ̸͢͠͞h̡o̢l̢d̸̡ ͢͡͠ş̕ţ̨a̷͘͡͡b̸͢i̷̕l̡̨͟i̕t̶̡͘͞y̧͡͏҉.”_ He grabbed the heart, a huff of air escaping his projector. He held it in his hands and focused. It slowly absorbed into his ink, and his form indeed seemed to solidify a bit more, his shapes a bit less blotchy but still as bulky. He glanced around until his light landed on Sammy. He stared for a minute, looking him up and down, before standing back up. _“Ju̷̢s̴̡͝t҉̴.͏҉.. ̨͝d̵o̷͟n’̧͏t̵ ţo̷͟͡uçh҉͟.̢”_

   Sammy nodded, and followed the projectionist, watching him as he stopped and adjusted different projectors and generally just kept the place a lot neater and tider than a place so flooded with ink should be. “... Do you get bored down here?”

   Norman glanced at him before returning to his little duties.

   “Like... Well... If you want, you can visit the music department. I could play you music, and... things like that...” Sammy fiddled with his thumbs nervously.

   Norman kneeled down and fiddled with a projector that had stopped working. Sammy watched, pretty disappointed, as Norman’s 5 fingered hands expertly went over the machine and opened it up. He scratched at something, closed the projector, hit it, and stood up. He went over to one of the crates and pried it open. He pulled out a light bulb and changed out the light on the projector before turning it back on with a small whack. Norman nodded and returned to mulling about.

   Sammy sighed. “Well... I’ll be seeing you...” He thought for a moment before gently placing his hand on Norman’s projector, reaching up on his tiptoes, and gently kissed the side. The projectionist stared dumbstruck as Sammy walked through one of his inky portals.

   . . .

   The projectionist began keeping a closer watch on his favorite only guest. Said guest easily noticed, it was hard to ignore when being bathed in light. Sometimes, when the projectionist was ‘secretly’ staring, Sammy would stretch and make sure Norman got a great view of flexing muscles or clothed glutes. He'd laugh to himself as the constant sound of Norman’s whirring head would grow louder and speed up, figuring that must be what a flustered projectionist sounds like.

**. . .**

   Sammy glared at the projector on the balcony. It wasn't working. Yeah, it may have fell off a few minutes ago due to Sammy’s clumsiness, but that didn’t give it an excuse to just stop working. Sammy tried pressing the button to start it up once more. _Yep, the damned thing isn't working._

   Sammy paced in the small office space, beginning to panic. How would he get into his sanctuary? His circle made sure to keep intruders from just inking their way in, which also meant it prevented him from just inking his way in. _Calm down, Sammy boy. Ha, don’t you know someone that can fix projectors?_

   Sammy made a portal, making his way instantly into level 14. He had gotten so use to going down there, he no longer needed to travel closer to reach it, which helped him ignore the Angel's territory.

   Sammy located Norman, who was fiddling with a reel from one of the projectors, and hugged him from behind, causing Norman to jump a little (nearly dropping one of his precious reels!) He tried to glance back, but his anatomy prevented him from doing so.

   “Hey, I could really use a favor from you,” Sammy stated, releasing his hug and stepping to the front of Norman. “My projector ain't working, and I really need it. Would you mind coming to my music department to fix it?”

   Norman watched the man, only catching a few words: favor, projector and fix being the big ones. He slowly nodded, figuring the other words weren't all that important.

   Sammy kissed the bottom of his projector lightly with a big, “Thanks!” before opening up one of his inky portals. He led the projectionist into the music department and guided him up the stairs to Norman's old office. Once in, he realized that he had himself a bit trapped, Norman's body, especially the wires, made it impossible for him to get around.

   Waving that off, he motioned to the projector. “This is it. Um... There should be some tools in the drawer over here. Thanks again.”

   With that, he used an inky portal to get down to the recording studio. He watched as Norman grabbed the projector and began fiddling with it. With a smile, he went off to care to the shrines, trying to think up some ways to pay Norman back for this.

   Sammy returned to Norman’s office after a while, just to find the projectionist watching the big screen, a scene from tombstone picnic running on loop from the reel that he had been holding when he got here. Sammy watched the creature with a content smile for a few moments. The projector shut off automatically and Sammy gently placed a hand on Norman's shoulder, minding the reel that protruded out of it. “Hey, let me show ya something.”

   Norman looked up at him as Sammy flipped the projector back on, thinking that he could come to like having a cartoon playing on it like the ones down in the abyss, before leading Norman to the stage. He quickly played his song, a broken up tune based on the melody from “Willow Weep For Me” played on different instruments.

   The projectionist jumped at the sudden sound of the entrance to the sanctuary opening, but followed when Sammy motioned for him.

   The projectionist looked around the area he was lead to, the inky writing on the wall making him cock his head in confusion.

   Sammy flipped the toilet seat down and placed the stool a small ways in front of it. “Sit, sit,” Sammy insisted, grabbing his banjo, making sure it was tuned just right.

   Norman sat on the stool, confused but willing to go along with what Sammy had planned. But then the banjo was in his lap and Sammy was behind him. “Let's teach you how to play,” the musician announced.

   Norman could feel his ink getting a little runny, (not bad enough to drip, but enough for his being to feel too soft,) the white noise the projector produced getting louder. But then Sammy's calm reassuring hand was gently nudging his own, showing the projectionist how to hold the object, and he calmed down enough to function properly. Sammy showed him the proper way to strum it and Norman stared, feeling the vibrations but unable to hear it. He couldn't calm himself down enough to strum and listen. He tried to hand the banjo back.

   “Hey, you're doing great!” Sammy reassured him, but the projectionist just shook his head.

_“C̡͏̕a̶͞n̛'̶̶͡t ̶̵ḩ̧͞e̷̴͝a̸͠r̨.”_

   Sammy stared at the projectionist. “You... you seem to hear me just fine.”

   Norman pointed at his head. _“T̸o̸̴o l̵o̶͡u̴͟d̷.”_ Then he pointed at the banjo. _“T̶͡o̴o ͠q҉̢̕ư͏i͏e͜t̕.”_

   Sammy thought back, all the times he thought Norman was ignoring him suddenly made sense. Yeah, in the beginning it was probably true that Norman was ignoring him on purpose, but now he just needed to speak up. Sammy nodded, taking the banjo back.

   “Well,” he said a little loudly, thinking. Norman seemed to listen when he’d take the banjo to the abyss before. “... You can hear when I play, right?”

   The projectionist held up his fingers to show that he could hear a little.

   “Want to listen to this new melody I'm working on?”

   The projector bobbed up and down.

   Sammy smiled and grabbed his sheet holder. He fetched the paper he had been working on yesterday and placed it on the holder, sitting down on the toilet seat. Norman worked on getting into his trance that would leave him conscious enough, but quiet enough, to enjoy the music.

   . . .

   Sammy would bring Norman to his department every once in a while. He tried to show Norman how to play pool, but the simple ink being seemed to lack the ability to grasp the point of the game, so it was soon dropped as a hopeless pursuit. Most of the time Norman would just listen to Sammy play music, and he became acquainted but indifferent to the others who resided in this territory, like Jack Fain.

   Searchers popped up more with him around, but they quickly returned to being weary as Sammy made sure to take the creatures out as quickly as possible before Norman would grow too aggressive and lash out at those he didn’t mean to.

**. . .**

   Sammy walked along a corridor, carrying candles and offerings, Norman following behind him as both protection and company. “Someday He will notice my devotion, and He’ll free me from this place, this body. I’ll put in a good word for you as well,” the man rambled as he kneeled next to a statue of Bendy, setting some of the offerings at it, and lighting a candle. “Would you join me in prayer?” he asked, looking up at Norman.

   It took a moment for Norman to realize he had been asked a question, having just accepted the talking Sammy was doing as meaningless chatter by this point. He slyly played it off as Sammy not being loud enough by tilting his head in mock confusion.

   “Here, just kneel next to me,” Sammy stated, his voice a few notches louder. Norman did so, confused as to the point of this, but playing along.

   Sammy hung his head, holding his hands together. “He will cleanse this world of the sheep who sin for themselves without care... the sheep who do not follow Him... He will erase those who have hopelessly lost their way. He will flood this world in ink... those who are worthy will ascend, those unworthy will sink to the depths of darkness. In His rapture, I pray that we are spared, I pray... that we are deemed worthy. I know someday... someday He will free us. In the name of Bendy... our lord... our savior... the great Ink Demon... amen.”

   Norman gave a small crackle of static and waited to stand up until Sammy did so. He followed Sammy as he set down offerings at different places here and there throughout the studio, every once in a while bringing the projectionist down for another prayer. Sammy was growing tired from making so many portals, but he kept a spryness to his step, the only sign of his exhaustion being that he had stopped rambling. Norman preferred that, because it drew less creatures he’d have to take out and this wasn’t a run to get an inky heart.

   “Hey, could you go set these things over on that desk,” Sammy asked, holding back a yawn.

   Norman grabbed the offering and stuffed Bendy Sammy handed him, peering through all the ambient light in the brightly lit room that was screwing with his vision a bit, and headed across the animators room to where Sammy pointed. Sammy, meanwhile, was setting up the last things he had at the desk he was at.

   As the projectionist was rounding the desk he was to place the stuff on, a wire got caught on the edge and his momentum caused the wire to rip out of his head.

   Norman faltered, his right leg losing control, and fell forward. He dropped plushie and offering, grabbing at the desk chair, which decided to just fall with him instead of providing any support, making the projectionist twist just enough to land on his side instead of his stomach (which hurt more but was better for his projector.) He blinked his shutter, his head seemingly ringing from the hit.

 _“Norman!”_ Sammy cried out, rushing over and throwing the chair off of him.

   The longest of Norman’s wires laid out from Norman’s body, connected only to his leg, ink leaking from the opposite end. Sammy grabbed it in a panic, and jumped as the end shocked him. “Ow, fuck!” he cursed, shoving his finger in his mouth for just a moment. He quickly pulled it back out, reminding himself that Norman had just fallen. “Hey, are you ok? This- what do I-”

   Norman unsteadily pushed himself up into a sitting position, grabbing the loose wire, keeping clear from the end. Clumsily he tried to guide it back into the projector, but he couldn’t see back there and between all the other wires and the awkward position, he knew the situation was hopeless. His ink began dripping, knowing he was too weak to protect himself in this state, and an uneven mournful static began playing loudly from his chest. The end of the wire touched metal, shocking him enough to make him drop the wire, his static glitching out for a second.

   Norman shook a little, the static getting louder in his distress. He rarely survived these situations and had been good enough to keep it from happening for a long time. He went to grab the wire again, but Sammy got to it first. “Just, slip it back where it belongs?”

   Norman slowly nodded, his static stuttering a bit and getting quieter. Sammy got behind him and carefully moved wires until he found the empty opening. Sammy tried to shove it back in, but made contact with the projector’s metal, shocking the both of them, making Sammy instinctively jump back.

   “Ok, let’s try that again,” Sammy announced over Norman’s increasing static and whirring, trying to calm him down some. “We'll get this taken care of, don't-”

   A searcher came through the door, the dark puddles sensing Norman’s weakness and hungry for his stability. “Shhhh,” Sammy hushed Norman, “I’ll be right back. I’ll be _right_ back. I promise.” He stood up, making his way to the door, and kicked the searcher into a puddle. He closed the door to hopefully hinder any others before returning to the projectionist, who was shocking himself again in an attempt to fix his wiring.

   Carefully, Sammy took over once more and made sure not to touch the end of the leaking electrical wire to anything outside the hole, trying not to think about how horrible Norman’s design was. _(Seriously, running ink and poorly protected electrical wires, what was his ink even thinking building him together like this!?)_ Once the wire was through the projector, he gave it a shove deeper into Norman’s head. His body spasmed and his leg kicked out before he stilled, his chest heaving violently. He shifted his right leg and his light actually glowed brighter at seeing it move. He tried to stand back up, but stumbled. Sammy caught him with a nervous laugh, “Maybe give it a bit before you push it too far.” Sammy sat him down in a chair.

   Norman watched Sammy closely as he left. A few minutes later he returned with a bucket of ink.

   “Here, um... drink up? Absorb up? I’m not really sure what to call it, ” Sammy mused as he handed the ink bucket to him.

   Norman placed his hand in it, absorbing back some of the ink he had lost. He set the bucket to the side before grabbing Sammy by the wrist and pulling him into an awkward but very tight hug.

   “Norman,” Sammy wheezed slightly, “you're an absolute tank but you've got the worst Achilles heel.”

**. . .**

**_*☆*☆*☆*_ **

**_{If you want to read some steamy NSFW smut stuff, take this time to go to chapter 2. This portion only adds to the story, but is in no way needed for full enjoyment, so if you'd rather not read it, just ignore chapter 2 and continue on from here.}_ **

**_*☆*☆*☆*_ **

**. . .**

   Sammy placed an offering at Norman's giant Bendy statue. It was an awesome sight, just 20... maybe 25? feet of Bendy. It had always made him want to pause and grovel, but he managed to keep from doing so for the sake of not getting his pants turned entirely as black as his skin. Sammy was a modest man, and rather not be mistaken as naked even if ink was all there was too see.

   Norman crackled his usual greeting as he came out of the tunnels. He happily hugged the prophet, pressing his lens against the back of Sammy's head. It was the closest thing to a kiss he could give.

   Sammy leaned back into the projectionist’s embrace. “Love you, my light,” he smiled warmly.

   Norman's light flashed brighter. _“Ļ̴͘o̸ve̕͝ ̛y҉̵ou͟͞,”_ his speaker crackled, the words feeling so right. Why hadn't he sounded them before? His hug grew tighter before he released Sammy, who only turned, pushing his mask off so as to kiss his projector. Norman stared at those gorgeous white eyes that squinted in the brightness of his light.

   Sammy gently wrapped his arms around Norman, resting his head on the projectionist's shoulder. “I didn't think you'd actually say it back,” he whispered too quietly for Norman to hear, black inky tears of joy prickling at the corners of his eyes.

**. . .**

   Sammy wasn't angry when his savior had killed him. No, Sammy knew he must've done something wrong. Maybe he performed the ritual incorrectly. The sacrifice should have been killed, maybe? His ink or blood already spilled? Maybe the lord wasn't in the mood to be summoned right then? _How stupid, Sammy. You should have known to make sure you weren't interrupting him!_

   No, what broke Sammy wasn't his lord's murder of himself...

   He heard it while bringing offerings to one of the statues, trying to get back on his lord's good side. Working with just his own shrines wouldn't be good enough, no, he had to show real devotion. He’d have offerings at the foot of every Bendy statue, if that was what it took to get his lord to accept him as the prophet once more. He hoped so. It would be a lot more time consuming to place offerings at every plush and somewhat Bendy significant spot in the entire studio.

   He got close to the Bendy statue, preparing to set down his bowl of offerings and set up some candles. He could hear the whispers of the dark puddles coming from it. In those whispers, a voice stood out to him, making him pause and listen closer. It was a voice of a mind that was being torn apart by the other souls trapped within the ink. It was the whimpering and yelling of someone familiar, a deep gravelly voice with a southern accent that sounded like sandpaper decided to make out with coarse gravel... it sounded like... _Norman!_

   Sammy dropped the offerings, a bowl shattering on the hardwood floor; and grabbed the statue's hands, willing his connection to the dark puddles to increase, his ink starting to run to the point he began to drip. “Norman?! Norman, do you hear me?! What happened!?”

   The whispers shut up for a moment, before all the voices hissed as one, _“W͔͛ͭͫ̀h̰̞̯̃ͬͫͤ̚y̹̻̠ͨ̓̆ͩ͒, ͖̖̗̎̓ḏ̀ͯ̾é̬͓̞͕̮̌ͦ́̏a̝̳̭r͓͎̬͚ͬͅ ͕̞̬̱̬ͭͭͯͮ͒p̼̩̰̈́͋̎̌r͕̻̅͐͒͛͒o̙̳̹̘̙̓̃̚p̪͉̩͔̩̑̐͑͊̏͆̎h͉ͪ̏ͅe͌ͩ̇̐t̞̥̺̬ͯ,”_ they seemed to spit, their dislike for the strong stabile presence they knew they stood no chance against destroying showing blatantly in their inflections, _“i̤͂͂ͨt̖̑ͨ́̆ ̭̪̘̑͗ͭ̍̄͒wͪa͙͇̥̓̾s͇͒ͪͅ ̟̪̟̅ͨŤ̬͙͓̤̘h̯ͪ̾̃͆e̬̅͐̿͗ I̥̻̟̪ͨ̀͑̅n̪͔͙̤̰̐k̩̝̹̪ͅ ̞̠̋ͤͮ̍̀ͅͅD̸̷̯͇̤̤̠̮̑ͨͣ͠ȅ͙͙̦͍̚m̫̌͑̈́͋̚o͕͙͔̐̅ͅn͙̤͖͚͙ͬ.̝͔̠̝̗̹̬̔̆”_

   Sammy's ink ran cold. _My light._ Why would the savior harm Norman? _I’m alone._ Norman kept to himself and defended his area, he wasn't intruding anywhere, leaving every once in a while only to see something besides ink and projectors. _My light in the dark, gone._ What’s wrong with wanting a little change every now and then, huh? _Nothing! Norman did nothing wrong!_ Norman was struggling just to keep his mind in the dark puddles, and there was nothing Sammy could do to help. _Why would Bendy do this to_ **_me?!_ **


	2. Smutty smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy and Norman get some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE LAST WARNING! IF YOU DO NOT WANT SMUT, DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER!  
> For those of you who do, I hope you have fun!

   Sammy was a virgin in just about every way. He barely touched himself and had seen his purity as a symbol of self respect for a long time. Even after he no longer cared about his purity, having stained himself for his lord and savior, he never even thought of actually staining himself in that way, much less acted on those thoughts.

   However, being pinned naked against the wall as Norman pressed ink drenched fingers up his ass made Sammy wish so desperately that he hadn't have been such a religious saint when jealousy made him judge the men he knew Norman was dating. (There was a look in Norman's eye back then when he looked at those men, and it made Sammy's heart clench and his blood boil.) If only he had broken back then, this wouldn't be his first time trembling around Norman's fingers.

   Sammy pushed back on those fingers of bliss, letting out a silky moan. “Oh, Polk,” he muttered, his mind flooded in an aroused fog.

   Sammy tried to think of what had led him to this situation, ~~so he could repeat it in the future.~~ He had surprised Norman with a hug from behind, which turned into a kiss when Norman turned around, which turned into a neck massage, and then a back massage, which somehow elevated into Norman grinding against him?

_Oh, there!_

   Norman continued stretching Sammy open, his arousal making his light flicker faster, the noises from the reel that wasn't there getting even louder.

   He looked up at Sammy's mask, wishing he had a mouth to kiss with, to close the distance that his head forced him to keep up even in a situation like this. He pushed that thought out of his mind as he removed his fingers, eliciting a whine from Sammy, and grabbed the inky dick in front of him, making Sammy moan a lot louder than the simple contact really warranted. Norman couldn't help but huff a breath of air through his projector at how ridiculous and over the top Sammy was being.

   Norman stroked Sammy's shaft a couple times as he pressed his body against Sammy's. He released the cock and lifted Sammy up against the wall. Norman guided his own dick into Sammy's inky entrance, lowering him onto it, and Sammy moaned lewdly enough for Norman to hear above the growing noise of his projector. It sounded like music, beautiful and melodic, the projector bringing a sort of consistent melody while Sammy's voice rang so clear and so full of pleasure.

   Norman wanted more of it. He pinned Sammy firmly against the wall and began fucking him roughly, ink slapping against ink. Unknown to Norman, his own moans were escaping as static through the speaker. He was entirely unaware that, _“Yeah, ̶f͞u͜ck,͏ so gơo͢d,̵ s̕o̷ b͢ea͟utif̛ul̨,̨”_ was being broadcasted through the static for Sammy's trained musician ears to hear.

   Sammy’s hips pressed forward, trying to get some more friction on his member and succeeding only enough to make him try harder, his back arching off the wall. Norman released Sammy’s wrists and grabbed his hips, taking control of Sammy’s grinding.

   Sammy wrapped his arms around Norman's shoulders, minding all the wiring, and held on, riding out the pleasure Norman was delivering onto him. Norman pressed Sammy’s back more firmly against the wall, their bodies pressed tightly together, the vibrations from Norman’s speaker tickling Sammy’s chest.

   He carefully pushed his mask up and kissed the lower part of the projector box, making Norman's hips and static stutter a bit. Norman closed his lens and returned to screwing Sammy senseless, egged on by Sammy's moans and kissing. Suddenly Sammy cried out, having just felt Norman brush against his prostate, and he came trembling against Norman's body.

   Norman took advantage of Sammy's clenched and trembling muscles to give a few more strong and powerful strokes to set himself off as well, letting out a swell of static, regretfully drowning out the beautiful voice of his little music man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you enjoyed this "chapter" in the comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! If you want to message me about questions, headcanons, etc. without making a public comment on this work or just see previews for pieces I'm writing, feel free to ask/follow me on tumblr at http://metasactreon.tumblr.com/  
> I want to do a shout out to Circus_Craze, whose Sammy/Norman one shots were used to fuel my motivation to finish this.  
> I'm planning on this feeding into another fanfic... or maybe a couple... idk. So, stay tuned!


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